When I heard that you were sexually assaulted,

I mourned for your childhood.

And perhaps that was not the

best response.

Because you have not died.

You are still very much alive.

I guess I’m just sorry

you had to come into this part of life

so early.

Because sex can be messy.

But I guess that I don’t have to tell you that.

Swept up so soon into a world you weren’t ready for.

Expecting yourself to have a voice,

when you barely knew the language. 

You were backed into a corner

as you saw his genitalia like cattle prongs,

branding you with words like

“Dirty” and “Unworthy”.


After all, the term “virginity”

was created by men who thought

that their penises were so important,

that they would fundamentally change

a woman.

Well I’m not buying it.

You are not half a virgin,

You are a WHOLE person.

And nothing will ever change that.

I want to rewire what society has made you think about yourself.

You are not a used toy, put back on the shelf,

with finger print smudges around your heart.

You are a work of art.

Each new experience brings more

color and dimension to your soul.

Each passing day puts more passion

Into the poetry of your pulse.

Don’t let anyone ever tell you

that you are ruined.

You are not some disposable vessel,

used to hold this myth called virginity.

You have never been, and will never be

Anything but beauty. 


True Poet Of Life

awsome poem keep up the good work 

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